


Cry Out Eliza

by placentalmammal



Series: No Reason to Return Again [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Domestic, Established Relationship, F/F, Hair-pulling, Oral Sex, Substance Abuse, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 19:32:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6672751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/placentalmammal/pseuds/placentalmammal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sole Survivor reunites with her lover after an argument with Hancock and Danse. Spoilers for Blind Betrayal, content warning for alcohol consumption and referenced addiction issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cry Out Eliza

**Author's Note:**

> Big ups to Del ([Tumblr](http://ialpiriel.tumblr.com/), [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ialpiriel)) for beta reading for me! Remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.

The Friday night crowd in the Third Rail burned like rum, dancing and laughing and popping pills and sloshing skunky beer onto the sawdust floor. The air was thick with the stink of cheap perfume, perspiration, and tobacco smoke. Head pounding, Rose breathed in deep and shoved her way through the crowd, throwing elbows and stamping on feet to clear her way to the door.

She met it at full speed and threw it open with enough force to rattle the door in its frame. It slammed against the exterior wall and Rose burst through into the cold November night. She stopped abruptly, cheeks flush with liquor and anger, and the door fell shut behind her with a noise like a gunshot. Heads turned; she ignored them and stomped flat-footed down the street with her hands thrust deep into her pockets.

The night was temperate for late November, but the cold wind concealed a knife. Shivering, Rose flipped the collar of her army surplus jacket up, her breath forming a cloud on her lips. She stalked down the street, stumbling over the uneven pavement. Age had cracked the streets and sidewalks, winter had glazed them with invisible black ice. Rose lost her footing twice, and twice caught herself on brick walls, scraping her knuckles all to hell.

“Fucking idiot,” she cursed, “Goddamn piece of shit idiot--”

“Three weeks since I seen you, and that’s how you say hello?”

Still bleary, still half-drunk, her head pounding from secondhand smoke, Rose turned. Cait slouched underneath a busted-out streetlight, red hair all askew. She was dressed plainly in steel-toed boots and three layers of moth-eaten sweaters, but her eyes shone like smoky quartz in the light spilling out from upstairs windows.

“ _Cait._ ”

Rose threw herself at the other woman, skidding on the ice. Cait caught her before she fell, pulled her into a back-breaking hug. Rose wrapped her arms around the other woman’s shoulders and buried her face in her neck, breathing in the aspartame-and-camphor scent of the other woman’s skin. Cait kissed the corner of Rose’s mouth and squeezed.

“Thought I’d freeze solid before I found you,” Cait complained, backing out of the embrace. “It’s too goddamn cold to be wandering all over town.” She held Rose at arm’s length, examining her. “No new scars,” she said, a hint of disappointment in her voice. “I was hopin’ you’d have a story to tell.”

“I’m full of stories,” Rose slurred. She backed Cait into the wall, kissed her neck. “Just listen, babe.” She wedged her knee between Cait’s thigh while slipped her hands under the other woman’s layered sweaters, seeking the flat, muscular plane of Cait’s stomach.

Cait yelped and danced out of Rose’s embrace. “Keep your damn hands to yourself!” she said, laughing. “Goddamn hands like ice.”

Rose closed the distance between them again and sagged against the other woman, face buried in her neck. “Missed you,” she said, her corn-flat accent coming in thicker in her drunkenness. “God, I missed you so much.”

Cait pushed her away. “Have you been drinking?”

“Only a little,” Rose straightened her spine, squared her rounded shoulders. She could taste the rum on her tongue, but the fire in her belly had cooled. Her head was still swimming, and she couldn’t say for certain whether she was drunk or sober. “It’s been--”

“What happened to ‘no excuses?’” Cait demanded, spitting napalm.

“I know,” said Rose lamely. She kicked at a lose paver and avoided Cait’s penetrating grey stare. “I fucked up. I was waiting for you at the Rail, and I had a few drinks--”

Cait swore.

“I _know_ ,” said Rose, acutely miserable. “But listen, there were _extenuating_ fucking _circumstances._ An op went belly-up, and--”

Cait swore again, all venom and vehemence, all her rage turned to fiery concern. “What happened? Are you hurt? Didn't I tell you this would happen if you kept proddin’ at the Institute, didn’t I?”

“No, no,” said Rose, glancing around. “Keep your voice down. It’s fine, I’m fine. But we can’t talk about this on the street.” She looked over her shoulder. The alleyway was deserted except for themselves and a group of drifters at the far end, milling around a trashcan fire. “Let’s go back to my place.”

“I’m not going to let you change the subject,” Cait said fiercely. “I’m still mad. You ain’t off the hook just yet.”

Rose took the other woman’s hand and squeezed. “I know,” she said tiredly. “You’re right. But I don’t want to stand out here all night. Come on, I’m freezing.” She started down the street, tugging Cait along in her wake.

Rose’s Goodneighbor apartment was a second-story walk-up over one of the vacant storefronts lining Tremont. Two rooms: a crowded parlor with a little wood-burning stove and a mismatched dinette set and a closet-sized bedroom partitioned off with a faded floral curtain. It was a corner unit, closer to the stairs but further away from the foul-smelling communal toilet, and it was relatively brighter and better-ventilated than the others in the building. Someone had tried to kick the front door in again. The jamb was splintered and the door hung crookedly in the frame, held in place by the intact chain and deadbolt.

Dropping Cait’s hand, Rose crouched down to inspect the damage. She sighed while Cait hovered behind her, pacing and spitting curses.

“What is the fucking point of having a goddamn fucking watch if this shite always happens?”

“It’s not just Goodneighbor,” said Rose, leaning heavily on the wall as she raised herself into a standing position. “You know there’s break-ins in Sanctuary, too.”

Cait stopped short, hands clenched into fists at her sides, trembling with rage. “As many? And always to you?”

Rose sighed. “It’s got to be Marowski’s boys. Rotten bastard’s had it in for me ever since that chem deal went to shit.” She jammed her key in the broken lock and nudged the door open with her hip. It swung inwards, and they stepped into the cramped front room. The locks had been deterrent enough for the door kickers; they hadn’t forced their way into the apartment.

“Think he’s tryin’ to intimidate you? Or was this supposed to be a hit?”

“No idea. I’ll talk to Hancock about it.” She closed the door behind them, leaned on it until it shut firmly, and then moved the deadbolt and chain into place.

Cait scoffed. “Oh, because _that’s_ the way to deescalate,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes. “Hancock thinks you’re in danger, he’ll set guards on you, day and night. He’ll storm the Rexford and shoot the place up and he’ll camp out in the parlor with a shotgun and write you a sad poem--” Her voice took on a musical quality as she fell into the rhythm of her words, laughter crinkling the corners of her eyes.

Rose suppressed a smile. “Be nice,” she scolded. “I’ll tell Fahrenheit, then. She can keep an eye out without being overly hasty.”

“That’s my girl,” said Cait. Shivering despite her layers, she stomped across the room towards their ill-tempered stove. A few minutes of cursing and wrestling with the flue and grates, and she’d lit a small fire. Satisfied, she peeled off one sweater and tossed it to Rose, who hung it on a hook beside the door. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet,” said Rose. “I was waiting for you, but I got distracted. I think I’m sober enough to handle fire, though. Sit down, I’ll cook.”

She sidled past Cait, turning sideways to navigate the narrow space. She stopped with her hands on the other woman’s hips, Cait’s back pressed flush to her chest, and kissed her neck. Cait yelped and laughed despite herself, dancing out of her reach. “Still mad,” she reminded her, dropping into one of the creaking dining chairs. “At Marowski, at you, _and_ at your cold hands.”

“Yes, yes,” said Rose. She lifted a well-seasoned cast-iron skillet down from its shelf and set it on the stove. She dropped a spoonful of suet into the pan; replaced the lid on the jar. “I’m sorry. Shit went wrong. I want to explain, not make excuses.”

“Wrong how?” said Cait, eyes narrowing. She rocked back in the chair, tipping it up onto two legs. “And if you’re in danger, I swear I’m going to find that partner of yours down and kick his skinny arse.”

Rose snorted. “Wasn’t his fault. _This time_. It was bigger than that.” She tilted the pan to coat the bottom with the melting fat. “My Brotherhood contact turned out to be a synth.”

Cait fell forward in the chair, all four legs landing on the floor with a thud. “Holy hell.”

“Yeah.” The fat crackled and popped in the pan; Rose dropped a heavily-salted strip of molerat into the skillet. It sizzled and hissed, fat bubbling around the curling edges as the smell of cooking meat diffused slowly through the room. Rose turned to the counter, selected a withered potato from the produce bin, and began dicing vegetables for a hash. “Designation M7-97. He escaped maybe seven, eight years ago? Poor bastard had no idea that he wasn’t human.”

“So what happened?”

Rose sighed. “The Elder told me to pull the trigger and I told him to get fucked. M7 was hiding out in a bunker up by Greentop Nursery, Deacon and I got him out and down into Goodneighbor.” She turned the molerat in the pan and resumed dicing. “I left him in the Third Rail with Hancock and his people; he should be safe enough for tonight.”

“What’re you going to do with him?”

“No idea.” Rose sighed again. “Deeks went back to HQ, and I’m supposed to stay here with M7 and wait for orders from Alpha.”

“So what does that mean?” Cait spoke in a wheedling tone, leaning forward in her chair, elbows planted on the table. “How long are you going to be in town?”

The corner of Rose’s mouth twitched. “I thought you were still mad at me.”

“I am, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be around ya,” Cait said seriously. “Means I ought to be spending more time with ya, make sure you’re stayin’ clean.”

“I surrender myself to your expert care.” Rose prodded the molerat with a fork, checking for doneness. Satisfied, she lifted it out of the pan and set the steaks on plates. She dumped the diced vegetables into the molerat grease to fry, then turned to face Cait, leaning on the stained formica counter. “I _am_ sorry,” she said softly.

They had gone clean together, an agreement settled with a handshake and a kiss in the atrium of Vault 95. No miracle cure for either of them, just methadone and a well-worn pamphlet outlining a twelve-step program.

There was one full dose of Addictol in the Vault clinic; they split it between them to flush their systems. After that, a few tabs of Fixer every day to keep the withdrawal from eating them alive. Sobriety was easier to manage with a partner: someone to hold your hair back, someone to wipe your clammy forehead, someone to hold you through the shakes. Rose’s work with the Railroad kept them apart for weeks at a time, and it was _hard_ , even harder than long-distance would have been otherwise. Letters weren’t the same as conversations and stolen weekends together weren’t the same as waking up together every morning.

“Don’t do it ever again,” Cait said fiercely, leaning forward and propping her elbows on the table. “I mean it, Rose. It’s gotta be me or the bottle.”

Rose dropped her gaze, reached for Cait’s hand and ran her thumb over the other woman’s scarred knuckles. “I love you,” she mumbled. “I want forty years with you. I want to do better for you.” Swallowing, she bent her head and brought Cait’s hand to her mouth to kiss her calloused fingertips. “I _will_ do better. Promise.”

Cait’s expression softened. “You’re going soft on me.”

Rose laughed, a resigned _hah_ pushed out through clenched teeth. “Not on your life.”

A moment of unsure silence. They remained still for a moment, hand-in-hand, eyes on the floor, neither daring to speak. Cait squeezed Rose’s hand and cleared her throat. “Your hash is going to burn.”

Shaking her head, Rose dropped Cait’s hand and turned to flip the has before it scorched. The vegetables hissed and popped, hot fat spattering over the stove. Rose dabbed at it with a hand towel then draped it over her shoulder for easy access. She drained the fat into a mason jar on the counter and turned the vegetables out onto the prepared plates.

They ate in relative silence, no sound at all except for a muffled argument two doors down. Eyes on her plate, Rose listened to the arguing and wondered whether the shouting would turn violent and whether she should go for the Watch if it did.

Cait caught her eye and shrugged. “Put some music on, yeah?”

“Sure.” She’d sold the Pip-Boy to a Bunker Hill merchant and bought a bakelite radio with a bent antenna and a cracked casing. Every station above FM 103.7 was garbled static, but it got Diamond City Radio and the classical station. Rose hesitated for a moment with her hand on the dial, then tuned it to the classical station. The opening notes of the Blue Danube waltz drifted out of the radio, and Cait shot her a dirty look.

“Rather listen to Travis than this shite,” she grumbled, but she made no move to change the station. She sighed and threw her fork down with a clatter of ceramic and cutlery, slouching down in her seat. A sly grin, and she hooked one foot around Rose’s calf, running her toes along her inseam.

“Hey there.” Shivering, Rose set her fork down.

“Hey yourself,” Cait said, voice low and smoky. “Been missing you, beautiful.”

Rose laughed. “Missed you too,” she said, low and breathy as Cait slid her foot up her thigh. Toes pressed into Rose’s groin, Cait rolled her ankle to grind her heel against Rose’s pussy. Breath hitching, Rose leaned forward in her seat, her palms pressed flat against the table, spreading her legs a little wider.

“Eager,” Cait murmured, a note of approval in her voice. Smirking, she ground her heel against Rose’s labia, drawing a gasp. “I like that.”

“Cait,” Rose breathed, pushing her hips forward into the contact, her hands flexing on the table. “God, _Cait_.” The music swelled to a crescendo, and Cait pulled her foot away, laughing. Hunched forward in her chair, Rose groaned at the loss of contact, her dark hair falling forward over her flushed face.

“Doesn’t take much to get you going,” said Cait. Smirking, she picked her fork up and popped a chunk of molerat into her mouth.

Rose harrumphed. “It’s been a while.” She pushed her hair back off her forehead, glowering across the table at Cait. Her face was hot, her cheeks red from arousal and from the lingering effects of the cold and the rum. “You’d be just as wound up.”

“Would not!”

“Wanna bet?” Rose shifted forward in her seat, color high in her cheeks. She kicked her heavy boots off and planted one stockinged foot on the edge of Cait’s chair, between her thighs. Cait laughed and rolled her hips forward against Rose’s foot, welcoming the contact. Rose trailed her toes up Cait’s fly, then ground her heel more insistently against the other woman’s clothed cunt.

Cait bit her lip, smirked up at Rose. “That the best you can do?”

“I got a few more tricks up my sleeve.” Rose sat up, tucking her feet underneath the chair. She looked at Cait for a moment--her tangled red hair, the dark smear of her eyeliner, freckles across her sharp cheekbones--then slid out of her chair and onto the floor, her cheeks burning red.

“What are you doing? You still drunk?” Cait inched backward into her seat, but Rose crawled to her under the table and set her hands on the other woman’s thighs. 

“Not drunk,” she said. “I had maybe three shots fast. It don’t linger.” Rose kept her grey eyes locked on Cait’s and leaned forward, burying her face between Cait’s thighs and drinking in her scent.

Sighing, biting back a smile, Cait ran her fingers through Rose’s wavy hair. “Now that’s just unfair. You’re playin’ dirty.”

“There’s no other way to play.” Running her fingers along Cait’s inseam, towards her cunt, Rose pressed a kiss to the inside of the other woman’s clothed knee. The denim scraped against her chapped lips, and Cait squirmed under Rose’s hands. “Let me eat you out?”

She reached for Cait’s zipper, but the other woman caught her hands by the wrists, holding her back. “We got a nice warm bed just waitin’ for us.” She dropped Rose’s hands and tugged on her hair, then bent to kiss her.

Eyes fluttering shut, Rose shivered. “Works for me,” she said, a little breathless.

Cait kissed her again. “Come on then,” she said. “You look a damn fool on your knees under the table.” She pushed back from the table to let Rose out, her chair scraping against the grey pine floor.

“I love it when you’re bossy,” said Rose. She crawled out from under the table, eyes shining, hair mussed. Cait extended her hand and helped Rose to her feet, widening her base and bracing herself as the larger woman hauled herself up off the floor. Another kiss, slow and lingering, then Cait pushed Rose backwards, towards the bed.

Her knees buckled when she hit the edge of the bed and she fell backwards, laughing as she pulled Cait down on top of her. The mattress springs groaned under their combined weight, squealing in protest as the two women arranged themselves on the too-small mattress. Rose wriggled her hips until she’d settled into the comfortable, worn dip in the center of the mattress; Cait straddled her, red hair falling around her face like a dirty curtain. They kissed again, reacquainting themselves with one another's’ mouths and bodies. It had been weeks since they’d seen each other last, and Rose had forgotten the taste of Cait’s lips.

Her kiss was sweet: cherry Nuka, camphor and paraffin wax, and the iron tang of well water. Groaning, Rose bit Cait’s bottom lip and sucked her tongue into her mouth, dominating the kiss even as Cait held her down and wedged a knee between her thigh, grinding against her cunt. She whimpered against Cait’s mouth, blunt fingernails biting into the other woman’s muscular shoulders.

“Missed you,” she whispered. “Love you.”

Cait’s expression softened; the kiss gentled. Calloused hands tugged at Rose’s collar and hem, eased her buttons open to expose a dirty lace bra and the soft, pale flesh of her breasts and belly. She had lost weight and gained muscle since she left the vault, but she still carried a comfortable layer of fat on her midsection: thick waist and thighs, soft tummy, heavy breasts.

“Look at you,” said Cait. “Christ almighty, just _look_ at you.” Her touch was reverent, her hands gentle on Rose’s breasts and hips. “You’re damn beautiful.”

Smiling, Rose reached up to toy with Cait’s red curls. “You’re not bad, either.”

Cait snorted. “I’d say I’m a _damn_ sight better than ‘not bad.’”

“Beautiful, pretty, lovely, radiant, gorgeous, cute--” Rose spoke breathlessly, rattling off synonyms until Cait silenced her with a kiss.

“Enough of that,” she said sternly. “I can think of better uses for your clever mouth, yeah?”

Rose laughed, letting her hands fall back to the mattress on either side of her head. “Such as?”

“You could lick my pussy like you been promising,” said Cait.

“I could,” said Rose. “Do you want to sit on my face, or?”

“Nah.” Cait climbed off Rose, mattress shifting and squeaking underneath them. “Harder to see your cute arse if I’m sittin’ on your pretty face.”

Rose sat up, kissed Cait again. “Let me get your pants off and I’ll take care of you.”

Cait shivered. “Been waiting to hear you say that,” she admitted, and she scooted backwards on the mattress until her back hit the footboard. Rose followed on her knees, smearing kisses across Cait’s throat and jaw, sliding her hands under her hem to cup her small, pert breasts. Cait hissed when Rose’s thumbs and forefingers closed over her nipples, pinching and tugging. “No rough stuff,” she said, “And goddamn it, your hands are _still_ freezing.”

“Sorry babe.” Another kiss to apologize. “And my hands are fine. You’re just really hot.”

“Keep up with the puns and I’m kicking you out of bed” Cait mumbled, relaxing as Rose let her hands fall to her belt buckle. “You can sleep under the table.”

“Rather sleep with you,” Rose said, lips hovering over Cait’s throat. “Come on, help me get your pants off. Lift your hips.” She worked Cait’s belt free of her trousers, then tugged her zipper down. Cait helped her slide her pants down her thighs, kicked them off, and then dropped them on the floor. Rose kissed her way up Cait’s thighs, her mouth dancing over moles and stretch marks and scars. Clumsy in her eagerness, Cait pushed her underpants down to expose her wet cunt and damp auburn curls. Rose crouched between Cait’s spread legs and pressed her mouth to her pussy, lapping at her slit.

Cait sighed happily and rolled her hips forward. Her fingers tangled in Rose’s hair, and she relaxed under the other woman’s mouth and hooked her legs over Rose’s shoulders, her feet pressed flat against the creaking mattress. “That’s good,” she said, tugging on Rose’s hair. “That’s _real_ nice.”

Rose parted Cait’s lips with her middle and pointer fingers, then flicked her tongue over the other woman’s clitoris. She drew rough, lopsided circles around the sensitive bud, even steady pressure as Cait’s hands tightened in her hair. She shivered and pressed forward more urgently, her own cunt throbbing as Cait moaned. The other woman’s sighs and moans mingled with the strains of the long-dead orchestra pouring out of the radio’s tinny speakers, a lovely counterpoint to the first violin’s mournful song. She closed her eyes, memorized the details of the moment: Cait, warm and wet beneath her mouth, muscular thighs tensing and flexing on Rose’s shoulders. The umami-sweet tang of the other woman’s juices on her tongue; the music of her moans. Sharp pinpricks of pain against her scalp, the mattress creaking underneath them as the rough wool blankets rubbed against her bare skin.

Rose pushed one finger into Cait’s pussy, shivered as she sucked and clenched around it, her slick trickling down Rose’s palm. She rubbed the pad of her finger over a spot along Cait’s inner wall, teasing her clit from inside while she sucked at the exterior bud. Whimpering, Cait clenched and bore down against her hands and mouth, a litany of curses tumbling from her lips. “Oh fuck, Rose,” she said, voice breaking. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ you feel so good.”

Increasing the pressure of her tongue on Cait’s swollen clit, Rose pressed up, finger stroking over a sensitive, spongy mass deep inside Cait’s cunt. Shoulders curling, she swore and jerked forward, grinding forward against Rose’s mouth and hands. “Holy goddamn _shit_ ,” she said, hoarsely, hair falling forward around her ruddy face. “Your mouth feels so good, Rose.” She whimpered, limbs straining, and Rose wrapped her lips around her clit and sucked, forcing her over the edge with a strangled cry.

She shivered and clenched around Rose’s tongue and hands, thighs quaking and toes curling. Rose kept steady, gentle pressure against her clit, Cait’s juices running down her chin and forearm, dripping onto the blankets. Still trembling, Cait hauled Rose up for another kiss. She swept her tongue into Rose’s mouth, shivering at the taste of her own juices on the other woman’s lips. Rose slid her arms around Cait’s shoulders, relaxing into her and smearing her slick over both their faces.

“Gross,” Cait grumbled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “You’re a messy lover, Rose.”

Rose kissed her throat, nipping at the sensitive flesh along the underside of her jaw. “You know you love it.”

“Love you.” Cait wrapped her arms around Rose’s waist, squeezed. “You’re damn good to me.”

“You deserve it,” Rose insisted. “And I love you, too.” They kissed, a gentle press of lips, satiation rather than hunger. Cait slid her hand down the soft planes of Rose’s body, cupped her mound through her trousers, thumb pressing into her flesh over her clit. Rose squirmed, laughing, wet mouth hovering over Cait’s throat. “Thought you’d forgotten,” she said, words breaking into a whimper as Cait ground the heel of her palm into her groin.

“Never,” Cait said fiercely. “Now let’s get those jeans off you. I want to see you.”

Fumbling, Rose undid her belt and fly, helped along by Cait’s eager hands. Her shirt had already come off, and her pants followed, discarded without a second thought. Nude as pearls, she laid back on the bed while Cait kissed her neck, hands wandering over her naked flesh, tracing the defined muscle underneath the soft layer of fat. “Love your body,” she whispered, hoarse and low. “Fuck, you’re so damn pretty.” She kissed Rose, gently, intensely, mouth trailing lower over the swell of her breasts while her fingers parted Rose’s plump folds, seeking her her clit.

Rose whimpered and pressed her hips forward against Cait’s hand, her fingernails digging into the other woman’s thick forearms. “Fuck me,” she whispered, burying her face in Cait’s neck. “ _God._ ”

“You like that?” Cait’s lips brushed her forehead, chapped but gentle against Rose’s flushed skin.

“Yes,” Rose breathed, breath hitching as Cait dragged her thumb across her clitoris. She tilted her hips to adjust the angle, and Cait pressed harder, drawing a moan from Rose’s cracked lips. One hand pressed to her mouth to stifle her cries, Rose clutched at Cait, hurrying her along as she chased her orgasm. Flushed, aroused, and lingering drunk, it didn’t take long for her to reach climax, and she came with a whimper and a rush of fluid against Cait’s calloused fingers.

Spent and exhausted, she slumped down into the mattress and pulled Cait down beside her. Rose licked her fingers clean and carded them through the other woman’s red hair, working the tangles lose while she hummed along to the radio. Cait relaxed underneath Rose’s attentive touch, eyelids fluttering shut. Rose kissed her cheek and settled down against her, bare legs tangled, hair scratching over one another’s skin.

“Still mad at you,” Cait murmured sleepily. “But I might get around to forgivin’ you if you start spending more between my legs like that.”

“You’re so mean to me,” said Rose, pressing another kiss to her cheek. “But you’ve outfoxed me again. I accept your terms.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with your Railroad ponce,” Cait grumbled. “You’re starting to talk like him.”

“Another bad habit you’ll have to break me of.”

“Shut up.” Cait rolled onto her side and pulled Rose up against her, wrapping one thick arm around her waist. She kissed the back of Rose’s head, squeezed her tit, and laid still. A few minutes, and her breathing slowed and evened, warm against Rose’s neck, counterpoint to the cold air. Utterly content, she closed her eyes and dropped off into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

>  _You cry out, Eliza, you scream, and you moan_  
>  _You're sick of this joyride you want to find home_  
>  _Adulthood has found you scared and alone_  
>  _Talk to me, talk to me, talk to me, doll_ ([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jV3bIvRGX8w))


End file.
